


The Parts we Play

by Ratling96



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 23:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19859881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ratling96/pseuds/Ratling96





	The Parts we Play

It took about three months for the pieces to start to come together enough for Crowley to see the bigger picture. But even then, what he saw was so big, he didn’t really believe it until it was spelled out exactly.

After surviving the nonpocalypse (as the Them were calling it), and Satan being about 10 seconds from killing them, Crowley and Aziraphale had made the decision to lay low by vacationing in various quiet spots around the world. They wandered through the kinds of towns where nothing ever happened, where even Aziraphale’s strange behavior was passed over with a shrug and muttered comments about tourists. When they got back to London, Crowley settled in at the bookstore. It wasn’t something they had talked about, but as Crowley spent more and more time there, it wasn’t long until he stopped trying to find excuses to leave.

The first piece settled into place when Crowley was considering how Heaven and Hell could not definitively say if The Great Plan was the same as Azi’s beloved ineffable plan. On the day it had happened, it was a great ploy to cause enough panic to get all forces to back off, nothing more. But the more Crowley thought about it, replaying the scene in his head, he was more and more frequently focused on the genuine uncertainty on Gabriel and Beelzebub’s faces. They really weren’t sure if The Great Plan and God’s plan were the same. That felt important, and really, it made sense. If Aziraphale was right that God's plan was unknowable, how on earth was Heaven or Hell supposed to know what was meant to happen, let alone follow so closely as to have a specific hour on a specific day to release the hell-hound. Realizing how ridiculous and unlikely that sounded gave Crowley the slightest flicker of hope.

The second bit came from Aziraphale. He forgave Crowley. He said it, he meant it, as devoutly as he had once believed that Heaven was the good side of things. He had lived it, since the day Adam came into his power. It was in soft, quiet ways, as was Azi’s typical affection. When Crowley was snarly and bitey, anxious and scared and not knowing how to show it, or spiralling down some thought trail that eventually turned into a one sided conversation about dolphins, Aziraphale let him go. When Crowley eventually ran himself out of energy, Aziraphale handed him a mug of cocoa and told him not to be scared. Or told him things would be okay. Or started talking about old memories. After some time, Crowley would relax and settle, apologize, or at least thank the angel. The longer they went without hearing from Heaven or Hell, the less snarly Crowley was. And Aziraphale never wavered. Just gave him those soft eyes and offered whatever help he could.

\---  
Crowley had started to question, started to wonder, long before the antichrist came into his power. He had never fit in as a demon, and Azi was hardly the typical angel. And really, everyone had a part to play in God's plan, right? But up until recently, that wondering had been mostly fantasy. Just because he didn’t understand why he fell, didn’t feel like a typical demon, that didn’t mean he was actually any different. But now, things had taken on a different light. Crowley thought about the conversation he had 11 years ago when he received the antichrist.  
"Your scene, your starring role" What if Ligur hadn't been that far off? What if he was meant to take the child, specifically to blunder the whole plan?  
But on the other hand, it was an awfully arrogant thing, to assume one was the central piece in a universal plan. Even more than arrogant, it was a very Human thing to assume. He of all people knew that the plan for the universe was vast and complicated. To assume he had much of a hand in it, especially now, was ridiculous. Maybe before, when he was off creating the cosmos, elbow deep in stardust. But not now. Not after he had spent so much time working against Heaven. Sure, most of his temptations were minor, really more inconvenience and nuisance than tricking any humans to do evil. But the intent had been there, and some of those temptations had turned out to be pretty effective.

\----

Despite telling himself that the thing he hoped for couldn’t possibly be the truth, Crowley continued to wonder, continued to hope in a soft, quiet way. He didn’t dare speak his thoughts on this particular subject, not even to Aziraphale. One day though, on an outing to clear his head and try to find some perspective, Crowley found himself tucked away in a small clearing in a stand of trees at the edge of a park. He was pacing the clearing, muttering to himself, trying to talk himself out of the circles his mind was moving in. Eventually, his frustration broke through his silent barrier, and he called into the sky.

“What’s it all mean? Is the Great Ineffable Plan really so convoluted? Or have you just changed your mind? Or have you really just left, just said ‘hell to the great plan, I'm off to go on vacation, the universe should be fine while I'm away’ because really, that’s what this whole bloody long silence feels like to most of us! ”

He stood stone still for a few heartbeats, then felt slightly foolish for the outburst, and hoped that none of the local humans had overheard him. He was unsurprised that no answer came, but the disappointment he felt still burned in the joins of his wings and corporeal form, like the ache of a joint wrenched while trying to catch yourself when falling down a flight of stairs. Most of his painful emotions were felt in that joint, and the ache was more or less constant. Being a demon was not an emotionally uplifting experience.

As the silence around him continued, it got deeper. The hush muted even the sounds from outside the trees, and in the space between heartbeats the whole scene changed. None of the trees moved, no new plants came up from the ground, there was nothing so obvious as that, but the whole area was suddenly different and familiar from very long ago.

This was not The Garden, but it held the same love and attentiveness that Crowley had felt before that first temptation in Eden, had felt out in space as God watched him spin stars like cotton candy. The feeling was so strong that it was overwhelming and his knees went a little weak as he looked around. He desperately wished Aziraphale was with him now, am anchoring point in whatever was about to happen.

_Hello Crowley, my dear one_

"Oh, uhm, Hello?"

_Long-time no speak, angel_

"Oh, I don't know, I've been doing an awful lot of speaking I think. To all sorts of people. Mostly humans, I think. Demons aren’t an awfully talkative lot, and while Aziraphale can go on for hours, he is only one angel." After speaking Aziraphale’s name, Crowley faltered. Was he really going there? What if Azi was wrong, what if the apocalypse they had stopped was meant to happen?

A soft wind ran through the clearing. A sound like wind chimes drifted on it. Crowley held his breath, fighting the ache in his chest. God was laughing in his presence. He wasn't sure if she was laughing at him in a positive way, but the sound was so much sweeter than he remembered.

_I am proud of you, Crowley. You have done so much._

Crowley was, for perhaps the first time, speechless. He stood in the middle of the clearing, opening and closing his mouth, floundering for some smart response. When he finally found his voice again, what came out was not smart, or snarky. It was genuine confusion.  
“I’m sorry, I think I’ve misunderstood. Did you - I don’t understa- I’m not sure you- What?”

Another windchime chorus, and then the soft voice filled him again.

_I am so incredibly proud of you, and Aziraphale. You both have shown such courage, such determination. And, even to my surprise, you acted out the plan as if you had read it. I only had to step in once, and that was 11 years ago, to ensure the nun didn’t take Adam from the Youngs. She would have taken him to the American couple. Red blanket and all made it pretty obvious he was the antichrist. I had to nudge just a little with that, convince her the blue blanket was the child she wanted._

Crowley chose to run a hand through his hair and adjust his sunglasses rather than speak. God waited a few moments before saying anything more.

_I owe you an apology, angel. You had to fall, with no knowledge of the role you would play. You were central to the plan, and I couldn’t risk any of the demons, or angels, catching on. I needed you down in hell, with your imagination, your love of the humans. And Aziraphale, I should explain things to him as well. Such a strong healer, that one. He has as much love in his soul as you, I think._

_When the demons fell, I knew they would go for Eden, for the humans. I needed to protect Adam and Eve. I could have sent a holy army to guard the walls, but I realized doing that would escalate things… unpleasantly. I knew that if one of the fallen breached the walls, saw the apple tree, it would allow for a path that didn’t end in war and the death of all of my children. And you, dear one, you were so inquisitive. So curious, so fascinated by everything. So quick to see through barriers. I knew you would see the merit of the humans having the knowledge held in that fruit. I knew you would do the right thing, a quick temptation, a nudge, nothing too forceful. You have always been so gentle with creation._

Crowley’s eyes closed for a moment as he felt the void of space around him, watched himself through God’s memory as he took elements and wove them into stardust, into galaxies and nebula. Hands caressed and coaxed until masterpiece after masterpiece came into existence. As the memory ended, God spoke again.

_I will admit, I interfered there. I spun back time, just a touch, to cast you out with the rest._

At this, Crowley shifted his shoulders and wings, easing the harsher ache that always came with this topic.

_I cast you out, and I waited, and when you came up into Eden, I was so joyful. I worried that maybe they would have chosen someone else. I can’t see their hearts as clearly as before they fell. I could have been wrong, and wasted such a wonderful soul. And then, after, when you and Aziraphale stood on the gate and talked! I was pleased you had found each other so quickly. I knew you would eventually, but I wasn’t entirely sure about the timing. I thought he would have to suffer through his decision with the sword on his own. But you were there, you comforted him. It was lovely to see how quickly you two bonded, I must sa-_

“Hold on, did you say you spun time back to cast me out? Are you saying I didn’t originally fall? That you threw me out for no reason?” Anger soaked every word, anger and 6,000 years of pain. Crowley’s legs couldn’t hold him any longer, he fell to his knees, wing drooping onto the ground. His jaw was clenched painfully, but he wouldn’t relax it. The physical pain was the only thing he could currently understand enough to process.

_Yes, I… yes. In the original timestream, you didn’t fall. But that world ended in Eden. The humans never spread beyond the garden walls. Adam and Eve, all the angels, all the demons, every plant and animal, it all burned in war._

_Your falling meant that the world got to exist long enough for you to fall in love with it. Long enough for you to care about it, to make it your home. And, ultimately, your falling meant the world lasted long enough for you to save it. Speaking of which, good move, pulling Aziraphale and Adam to a timeless place to allow you all to regroup and give the boy a moment to come up with a plan._

Crowley had no idea how to respond. For so long, he had questioned why he was in Hell. Sure, he had questioned things, but that never seemed like enough to kick him out of Heaven. Apparently, he had been right that it wasn’t - no, that it shouldn't have been enough. The demon looked skyward, a snarl dragging across his face.

“Is this supposed to make it all better then? You come, after so long, explain everything to me, and I forgive you? As if my wings haven’t been burning this whole time? I’m supposed to find out you’ve treated me like a pawn, cast me out for... For this? And I’m supposed to.. What? Thank you?” As he spoke, his voice rose until he wasn’t just shouting, he was pushing magic into his words to make his message even louder, even clearer. The clearing was protected from the outside world by layers and layers of holy magic straight from God themself, but even with that, the humans in the rest of the park started to feel uneasy. (From that day on, that particular clearing was deemed haunted, and only inhabited by teens daring each other to spend the night there. They rarely made it much past midnight, the echoes of Crowley’s pain were so strong.)

_No, dear one. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or thank me. I came to give you two gifts. The first is the knowledge that you were a part of the plan. I never stopped watching you, never stopped loving you. I never left you. The second gift is a little more practical, I think._

Now heat swept through the clearing, dry heat that burned in Crowley’s eyes and throat. It took hold of his wings, pulling them out from his body to their full extension, tugging until Crowley stood up, then lifting him into the air by just a few inches. Following the heat came a light that blinded the demon, forcing his eyes closed. Then came calm.

As Crowley’s feet touched down again, his wings relaxed and swept down in the corner of his vision. He lifted one again, inspecting. It was still mostly the same, but the shafts in his primaries shimmered gold. He shifted his wing, watching the new color play in the sunlight. He realized this movement, which would usually twinge, felt smooth and easy. He began to move both wings in broader strokes, testing the new feeling in them. He couldn't help but grin at how good they felt.

_You are not technically risen, but you are healed. But, considering that you and Aziraphale have done more to be good examples of angelic behavior than all of Heaven recently, I assume that rising is not something you have much need for?_

God’s voice was thick with amusement in the last sentence, and with a warmth that Crowley thought sounded an awful lot like a mother playing favorites. He nodded silently, then opened his mouth to ask a question. Before he could, God spoke again, answering the thought in his head.

_Your eyes have also been… altered. For whatever reason, when everyone fell, you were the only one to not be able to mask your eyes to the humans. Probably something about lying, honesty, good and evil, blah blah blah. Somehow I messed up. At any rate, I've fixed that. Your eyes will appear “normal” to the humans, but celestial beings will still see them as they always have. Aziraphale happens to really like your eyes, and I didn’t want to take that from him._

Crowley nodded again, bewildered by that information. For the final time, God spoke.

_You are dear to me, Crowley. You are the angel that fell but never turned from me. You are the child who has remained inquisitive, no matter who told you to look away and stop asking questions. You are the one who never lost your imagination, never lost the spark of faith that I gave you so long ago. I cannot take you back to before the fall, not without undoing all that you have accomplished. But I know that you will find peace in this world, now that Heaven and Hell will leave you to your own._

As God’s voice softened, the protection over the clearing lifted. As she finished speaking, Crowley heard a car in the distance. He took a few shaky breaths, then headed back the direction he came, wanting nothing more than to find Aziraphale.

\---

As Crowley reached the bookstore, Aziraphale opened the door to usher him in, then flipped the sign to “closed” and lead Crowley to the back. When Crowley sat down, he found a mug of warm cocoa already waiting for him. He glanced up at Aziraphale in surprise, and when he did he saw a flash of gold in the angel’s primary feathers. Crowley hesitated, then spread his wings for Aziraphale to see.  
“She came to both of us” Aziraphale said this in a matter-of-fact tone that Crowley hadn’t expected. He nodded, sipping his cocoa and setting it down before speaking.  
“Did she explain it all to you?”  
Aziraphale nodded, opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it and drank his cocoa instead. Crowley nodded at the angel’s wings and raised an eyebrow. Aziraphale glanced at his feathers and shrugged.

“She didn’t really explain that, actually. Just called it a “gift”. They are certainly quite pretty now but I’m not entirely sure the purpose of the change.”

As Aziraphle spoke, the mail slot in his storefront opened and closed quite loudly. Both angels turned towards the sound, then Aziraphale walked to retrieve whatever had been delivered. It was a scrap of paper, a short note. Aziraphale held it out for Crowley to read.

“Don’t forget to try them out” Crowley looked from the note to Aziraphale, who looked lost. Crowley looked back at the note, and after a moment staring at the writing, something clicked into place. He grinned as he stood up and kissed his love. Aziraphale was somewhat startled by the change in tone of the room, especially when Crowley took his hand and practically dragged him out the door, only saying that Aziraphale would understand soon when pressed for an explanation.

\-----

When Crowley had arrived at the bookstore it was late afternoon. Now, it was fully dark and the pair had driven out to some (more or less) deserted farmland. The sky overhead was clear, and Crowley couldn’t help but stare at the stars. The memory God had shared with him was still vivid, and it was all the encouragement Crowley had needed after seeing the note. He and Aziraphale were standing on the edge of a field, the car parked as far to the side of the road as he could put it without being in a ditch.

Aziraphale was silent now, staring at the stars next to him. His demands for understanding had been met with continuous placations, and he had decided to have some patience. Whatever was about to happen, Crowley was practically floating with excitement.

Crowley sidestepped away from Aziraphale, far enough that he could extend his wings without wapping his partner over the head. The new gold in his primaries glowed in the moonlight. Crowley shook his wings a little, trying to remember how to move them properly. He stepped away again, giving himself room to flap his wings slightly. He felt much like the fledglings he had seen in the local birds, uncertain of himself. Glancing back at Aziraphale, his uncertainty grew. Maybe he was wrong? Maybe the note was gibberish, something a random passerby had shoved through the slot, not meant to mean anything? He looked back up at the stars and steeled himself. No, he was certain the note had been from God. Certain what it meant.

Taking a breath, Crowley started to jog down the road, wings out to catch the air. He began to push his wings down, trying to find the uplift he was looking for. He caught it once, then twice, then a third time as he pushed himself up into the air with his next step. After a frightening moment where he felt he would stumble and crash, his muscles remembered the movement. His feet lifted off the road, and in another moment he was truly in the air.

Down below, Aziraphale had let out an absolutely unrefined shout of joy. Crowley had always been beautiful to Aziraphale, but what he saw above him now was not just beautiful. Crowley was breathtaking. The glow from the moon lit Crowley enough that Aziraphale could see the joy on his face. Aziraphale stared with his hands on his chest, wiggling gently. When Crowley glanced down, the angel looked embarrassed at being caught staring so openly and waved up at him. Crowley laughed and called down.

“Well come on, love! Aren’t you going to join me?”  
Aziraphale looked terrified, then shook himself and set his shoulders. He followed the same process Crowley had and took off with the same shakey grace. Once they were both aloft, Crowley surged upwards, heart set on reaching up into the sky as far as he could. Aziraphale was just behind him, keeping pace with bliss written into every line of his body.

\----  
The angels spent much of the night relearning their wings, diving and soaring and doing all kinds of maneuvers they hadn’t in quite a long time. As they drove back to the city in the early morning, they talked about their respective (apparently simultaneous) meetings with God. When dawn finally broke, the sun rose on the pair curled up in bed, sleepy smiles, arms and legs tangled, wings overlapping.  
As Crowley fell asleep, he silently thanked God. He wouldn’t forgive, not yet, maybe not ever. But he finally understood his place, and that was something he could appreciate.


End file.
